In Tandem
by trufflemores
Summary: Iris and Barry have a nice life together. Here's a snapshot of one evening, with bonus cuddles.


They're cuddlebugs.

At least, that's what Cisco calls them. They would never admit it within earshot of another human being, but proximity is so ingrained in their routine that Barry can't sleep until Iris shows up. "Sorry, sorry," she says, a little out of breath, setting her bags and shoes down at the door. "I got caught up."

"No, hey, don't apologize," he assures, fighting a deep yawn, not wanting to make her feel worse for the delay. Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he asks, "How was the event?"

She grabs the front of his shirt and tugs him forward. He obediently curls his arms around her back. "A terrible substitute for date night," she admits, leaning up to kiss him. He kisses back, humming deep in his chest. The warm, satisfied Speed-purr helps push back the exhaustion gnawing at his legs, giving him renewed strength. "I'm really sorry."

"S'okay," he assures, kissing her cheek. "Don't even worry about it." Rocking her in his grasp, a slow, barely perceptible seesaw, he adds, "I was kinda hoping we could stay in? I got pizza." He nods at the kitchen counter where a box of Coast City's finest still sits. Seven empty boxes have already been folded neatly into the recycling bin; his paunch, though not pronounced, is felt.

Inhaling deeply, Iris takes his head in her hands, kisses him deeply, and declares, "God, I love you so much." Letting him go, she sidles up to the counter, pulling out a slice. "Are we getting old?" she asks abruptly.

Barry glances down at his Star Wars' sweat pants. "…I don't think so?"

"We don't go out much," Iris explains. He saunters up to the opposite side of the counter, resting his elbows on it. When Barry lifts his eyebrows inquisitively, Iris finishes, "Old people don't go out much."

Barry huffs, soft and amused, before fishing out a slice for himself. "Old people go out all the time. They bike, they boat, they play bingo." Finishing off his pizza, he sidles around to her side of the counter, hip-checking her lightly. "They're more active than we are. We've gotta catch up."

"Shouldn't be a problem for The Flash," she teases. She polishes off a second slice before turning to him and draping her arms around his waist. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

He shrugs. "No reason to be up early on a Saturday."

"No," she agrees, letting him go and shutting the pizza box behind her. He gets the memo, whisking it off into the fridge. She ambles off into the bedroom; he trails after her, locking the main door for the night and shutting off lights as he goes. "Hey, hon?"

"Yeah?"

"I left my charger in my bag, would you mind—"

He zips off, reappearing in the bedroom with it in hand, a triumphant grin on his face. "Found it."

"Love you," she calls from the adjacent bathroom, brushing her teeth.

He plugs her phone in for her and joins her, freshening up before double-checking his own phone for new messages. Satisfied, he sets it on the nightstand, vanishes into the kitchen to down another glass of water – for whatever reason, he's always been a thirsty-tired kind of guy, asking unironically for a glass of water countless times as a kid – and then vaults onto the bed. Actually vaults – there's a somewhat alarming _crack_ noise that has Iris asking, "Did you break our bed?"

In the scientific spirit, Barry experiments, bouncing on it a couple times, assuring after a moment, "If I did, it's not like, broken-broken."

He can almost hear Iris roll her eyes as she says, "Good to know." Sprawling across the covers, he closes his eyes, the slow headache building behind his eyes threatening to capsize into painful soon. Luckily, Iris doesn't take long, and she carries out the honor of flicking off the last lights, leaving only the nightlight in the bathroom on as she slides under the covers beside him.

With one last Flashy moment, he strips his shirt and joins her under them, covers pleasantly warmed by his heat. He closes his eyes and doesn't open them when he feels one of her hands tangle in his, tugging it towards her until he wraps it around her waist obligingly. Settling his leg over her hips, he exhales deeply as she shuffles closer and cuddles into him, head under his chin.

It's brisk outside, and still cool in the apartment, but it's perfectly warm under the sheets, his Speed-purrs irrepressibly pleased. "'m glad you're home," he tells her sincerely.

She kisses his collarbone. "Best part of the day," she agrees, yawning against him.

He can feel sleep tugging him down, fuzzing the edges of his consciousness and the exact points of contact between him and her, but he holds onto it, holding onto her. Her breath is soft and steady against his chest, lulling, almost in tune with his own. He strokes his fingers across her back, marveling at the fact that after all these years, all _those_ years of pining and now these of being in her presence, something as simple as her company can bring him so much joy.

He feels her breathing even out and he aches to join her, but he holds on a moment longer, a moment longer, aware that he could have a hundred thousand moments longer and it still wouldn't be enough, because he is never going to get tired of holding Iris Ann West-Allen in his arms.

With a final, happy exhale, he sinks under the waves, and finds her in his dreams.


End file.
